


Tea, Again?

by accidentalapostate



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:12:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6540487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accidentalapostate/pseuds/accidentalapostate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niamh (NEE-evh) Lavellan notices that her lover is drinking a considerable amount more tea than usual.  When she ventures to learn why, she finds out he is harboring feelings of jealousy for a certain charming commander.  An attempt to console the elf in turns into much more than consolation, and all of Skyhold finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!   
> UPDATE: Thanks to a comment, I was informed that my character's name was pronounced incorrectly, so I would like to make sure that the pronunciation is established.
> 
> Niamh is Irish. When I looked it up originally, I came across a faulty pronunciation and took it to be pronounced (Ny-uhm) and thus Solas' nickname for her is "Ny-uh." After the correction here are the new pronunciations of her name:  
> \- Niamh = NEE-evh  
> -Nia = NEE-uh
> 
> Basically Solas just drops the V sound. :P

                 Niamh Lavellan sat cross-legged, elbows rested on her knees as she hunkered over her a cryptic book of elven mythology, papers upon papers of notes lay scattered on the couch around her.  She huffed in frustration, massaging her temples. _I should **know** these things, or at least be able to understand them. _She flipped the page aggressively, accidentally ripping it. “Fenedhis,” She swore as she closed the tome, tossing it to the side.  She heard a quiet laugh from across the room. “Fenedhis lasa, Solas,” she swore teasingly at the elf whose circular hub of study she had been sitting in for the past several hours. 

                Solas rose from the seat at his desk and sauntered over to the couch to see what troubled his love.  When he saw the elven mythology book, he immediately recognized it as the one containing the best account, in his opinion, the modern elves had produced of the Fall of Arlathan.  He looked at Niamh with a confused expression on his face.  She should have no trouble interpreting that text as it was in her own dialect, not in the archaic form.  “What’s troubling you, vhenan,” he asked.

                Niamh adjusted her posture when she spoke to him, straightening up and tilting her head to look him in the eyes.  She inhaled deeply and began to explain, “The accounts of this story that I was taught as a girl in my clan were so different from this one and each telling of the account is at least slightly different from the other.  I was trying to determine if some of the ancient runes and writings were mistranslated, by using some of the translations you wrote up for me, but I… I can’t.  I almost feel like a failure as an elf.  How are our people so misinformed?”

               Solas smiled gently, and collected the strewn papers into a neat stack and sat them on the end table by the couch.  He eased down beside Niamh, reaching over to kiss her softly on the cheek as he did. “Nia. You are leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of our people on this matter.  Simply acknowledging that the common accounts are gross exaggerations mainly allegorical and intended to scare young elves from over-fondness of humans and to create a bogeyman of some sort in the figure of Fen’Harel.”

                The Inquisitor giggled a little at the comparison of the Dread Wolf every elven child learns to fear beyond all things to a monster under the bed. “I suppose that’s fair,” she conceded as she relaxed and tilted her head to rest on his shoulder.  She snarled her nose up as a strong, herbal odor wafted into her nostrils.  She had been so involved in her studies, she had not even notice that Solas had been drinking tea.  She looked up at him, with a single eyebrow raised in curiosity. “You know, for someone who detests tea, you have sure been drinking a lot of it lately.”

                Solas laughed nervously and looked away in a very uncharacteristic manner as he began to explain, “I’ve been having strange dreams lately, dreams that I haven’t necessarily been in control of.” His eyes darkened, and Niamh thought he looked almost sad or perhaps it was anger that broiled behind the blue globes. She tilted her head sympathetically, but did not venture to ask him, not wanting to invade his innermost private thoughts.  Solas was very reserved, and she respected that.

                “I’m here for you if you need to talk about it,” she did venture to say, just reminding him that he could trust her because he often forgot that aspect of their relationship.  His gaze softened and he returned his eyes to meet her own. He nodded in acknowledgement.  Niamh leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the lips, a gesture which he returned with a bit more intensity.

                “I would do well to remember that,” Solas said softly and with a smirk as he pulled away.  He did not venture to discuss his dreams to her though.  They may disturb her more than they disturbed him. He was in the midst of drinking in her beautiful features and then noticed that she suddenly gasped and looked very worried.

                “SHIT,” she exclaimed as she disentangled herself from his arms and hopped up off of the couch, “I totally forgot I have a meeting with Cullen about war…stuff.  I honestly don’t even know why he insists on talking to me about troop placement.  I’m a mage. I set things on fire.  What the hell is flanking damage, anyway? Still, I need to give our Commander the time of day.”  She ran out the door to the battlements, only to run back in immediately and give Solas a quick peck.  “Bye Solas. We’ll talk later.”  Then she left for good.

                Solas could not help but feeling a pang of loneliness as she left, as he had become quite accustomed to her perching on his couch reading one of her many books as he studied or painted.  There was another emotion burning in his gut though, one he knew, but that he had never experienced to his knowledge.  No doubt it had been a seed planted within him due to the very content of his recurring dreams.


	2. Well Done, Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas ponders his recurring dream and makes a confession to his lover.

Chapter 2: Well Done, Cullen

                ‘ _Why am I here?’  Solas wondered as he traipsed through that which he knew was a dream.  He had felt a strong pull toward a particular area of the Fade that he could not resist.  He was compelled, no **forced** to investigate a lure so strong.  Usually such intense feelings were created by dreamers who had passionate desires or specific and phobic fears.  These were the dreamers demons found particularly enticing as well._

_The elf made note of the features of his surroundings, and knew at that moment whose dream had beckoned him.  He was standing right outside the Commander’s office, to which he ventured very little.  Cullen and he had very little in common except a knack for chess, so Solas never made it a point to strike up conversation with him, much preferring to seek out Blackwall, Cole, or even Varric for company.  That made the fact that he was drawn to Cullen’s dream even more puzzling._

_As he neared the door, he noticed one of the Commander’s runners standing outside the door very nervously.  “I…er…wouldn’t go in there if I were you messere.  The Commander is t-terrifying when he’s interrupted.”  Solas flinched and shook his head in disbelief. The Commander? Terrifying?  That seemed implausible, but perhaps to a mere page, it could seem as such. Solas disregarded the young man and grabbed the door knob and eased the creaky door open ever so slightly, and when he entered the room, he knew the precise reason why he’d been drawn to this particular dream._

_The sight before him was definitely something he’d have never expected from the Commander of the Inquisition.  He could not make out much more than two naked figures writhing atop his desk.  There were pieces of glass from broken bottles and papers scattered recklessly on the floor as if they had been brushed of the desktop in the heat of the moment. Solas very much respected the Commanders brave imagination.  He chuckled, amused at the tryst occurring in front of him.  ‘Well done, Cullen.’_

_But who was the mystery woman being lavished atop the sturdy furniture?  It did not take Solas long to notice the light red hair, tousled down out of its normal braid, the long slim limbs, and the breathy voice humming in delight.  No, the elf immediately recognized the woman – **his** vhenan, his Niamh.  With the realization, Solas felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces and his world come crashing down around him.  _

              The dream had happened exactly the same way each night. He would wake up with a jerk, beads of sweat would be abundant on his forehead despite the fact that he was rather chilly, and he would become instantaneously enraged.  After remembering that he had only been witnessing a dream, he would calm himself but he still felt that emotion, the one he was not used to – jealousy, insecurity. Then, his head would begin to throb and tea was a disgusting necessity.

              Now, he could not clear the scene from his mind.  Was the Commander really taken with Nia?  Did he crave her so immensely, or were these dreams accidental conjurations of his subconscious?  Solas had no possible way of determining that.  All he could think about was Cullen’s toned and perfect male form atop Niamh, kissing her how Solas so wanted to, touching her places where Solas so yearned, and ultimately causing his love to make the most beautiful and delighted sounds, sounds that Solas hoped to be the only one to hear.   Cullen’s in dream prowess and masculinity caused the elf to feel small, insignificant, and utterly inadequate.  His incredibly powerful ego was reduced to a mere wisp.

              Seeing Niamh rush off to meet with Cullen had briefly brought Solas’ jealousy to the forefront of his mind.  Why was she so eager to see the Commander?  Had he maybe seen _her_ dream instead of Cullen’s?  Was she interested in him?  Was she leading Solas on? The terrible and endless list of what-ifs ran through his mind incessantly, then… Niamh returned.

             Solas nervously jerked his head toward the door that she walked through.  The light behind her formed a glow that enhanced her already stunning appearance.  How could he be so in awe of her as if she had not seen her just a few hours earlier?  He did not know the answer, but the tired laugh that escaped her throat as she entered the room became one of his favorite sounds. He was glad she had returned despite the feelings brewing within him.

            “How was the meeting,” he questioned, turning around to hide his discomfort.  She approached him from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing the side of her face into the space between his shoulder blades.  For a moment, he tensed up, but he quickly relaxed and shifted within the circle of her arms so that they were now in a proper hug.  She craned her neck so that she was looking up at him.

            “It didn’t happen,” she said with a grin, feeling the need to explain further when Solas gave her a puzzled expression. “I went to his office only to find one of his pages who he’d instructed to tell me that he was in the garden with Dorian.  I went down to see what they were up to – Chess.” The Inquisitor shook her head in amusement.

            “I’ll take it the Commander won? I do not see Dorian having a strategy.  He seems more of the type to move pieces without forethought and then boast when he gets lucky,” Solas half joked.  He was not fond of the Tevinter, but he had to admit the man was interesting.  Niamh laughed slightly, appreciating the accurate observation of her friend.

            Niamh nodded in affirmation, “Don’t get smug. There’ll be no living with you,” she said in her best Dorian voice, “‘Inquisitor, you really must bring him down a notch.’” Solas laughed, more loudly than usual at her comedic impersonation of Dorian.  She was so perfect, to make him forget his sorrows so often.  Then, a pang of jealousy hit him again.  
           “Well, did you play him,” Solas asked, perhaps too harshly as he noticed a confused look come over Niamh’s face.  He’d never even thought chess would be a thing Nia would enjoy because she always glazed over whenever he and The Iron Bull played without a board.  It never crossed his mind that they could share another hobby. Thus, he had never asked her to play and he bristled slightly at the thought of her play with Cullen.

            “Of course,” she said, still looking very confused, she pulled out of the embrace and pounded the fist of her right hand into the palm of her left forcefully, “Kicked. His. Ass. We’re going to rematch sometime. I think it’s nice to get to know the Commander more personally.” Solas tried to seem proud of his love, but he could not shake the jealousy from his mind.  He could not believe these feelings; they were so beneath him.

            “Congratulations,” he said tersely, once again disgusted with his own lack of discretion. He tried to mend the situation with a slight smile, but judging from the expression on Niamh’s face, he knew she had picked up on his tone, and there would be questions, perhaps even a discussion.

            “Is there a problem,” she challenged as she backed away from him, crossed her arms and rested her weight on one leg.  Solas knew that she was intuitive and paid a great deal of attention to body language, intonation, and facial expression.  He also knew that he had given her enough reason to assume that he was perturbed.

            He exhaled, “Not _really,_ ” he said, trying to gloss over the details.  He could tell from the look on her face that his vagueness was not going to suffice.

            “Not really,” she restated sarcastically, “Okay, then, is there some figurative problem?” She knew she was being a bit harsh with him, but her temper was quick, and she knew him well enough to know when he was dodging an issue.  She needed him to be open with her and tell her when something was upsetting him.  She needed him to trust her, and this clearly was a poor example of him doing that.

             Solas knew he was going to have to explain himself in order to avoid her wrath.  He rested against the edge of his desk, nearly sitting on it. “Nia… you seem to awaken _things_ in me that I have not felt in an incredibly long time.  Some, I have never experienced.”  He paused, meeting her hard gaze to express sincerity. Her eyes softened a bit and she dropped her arms to her side.

            “What are you saying,” she asked, no longer with a harsh timbre.  She walked over closer to him and rested against the desk as he was.  He relaxed a bit and reached out, took her hand into his own and meshed his fingers with hers. Her softened gestures made him feel much more at ease speaking candidly.

             “I have been on my own for so long that I had forgotten what it felt like to have desire for a person, to want with such an intensity that it controls my wanderings of the Fade,” He looked at her from the corner of his eye to see that her pale skin was gradually becoming pinker.  He took a slight pleasure in the fact that he had that effect on her.

            “So, that’s what this is about? You’re having dreams about me,” she said with a teasing grin, trying to hide the fact that she was quite flustered.  Solas smiled briefly before returning to a more somber expression. He wished it were that simple.

            “Not exactly,” he explained, “I am more drawn to witness the dreams of others whose dreams contain you. The pull is literally in escapable, and I end up seeing all of these dreams.  Most have been mundane.  One day, I was drawn to a dream that Sera had of hiding all of your…undergarments in the undercroft and you awkwardly searching about for them.”  Solas stopped to look for the Inquisitor’s response to that bit of information.  Her eyes widened and she appeared mortified. _Good._ He smiled.

            “Remind me to keep Sera away from my wardrobe,” she stated with a brief chuckle.  She looked toward Solas, urging him to continue his explanation.

            “As I said, normally the dreams of you that I am pulled toward are anecdotal at best; however, lately, I have been repetitively pulled into dreams with more explicit content,” Solas paused again as Niamh gave him a questioning look. “Sex.”

            Niamh choked on the breath she had been taking when he said the word, “ _Sex?_ You mean someone is dreaming about having _sex_ with me? Why? _Who?_ ” She had stood up and was now pacing the floor in front of Solas, wringing her hands uncomfortably. The thought made her skin crawl.  She had never even _had_ sex and someone was dreaming about it.

             Solas gave her a look suggesting she should know who, but she still looked puzzled, “I tried to attribute the dreams to manifestations of my own insecurities and fears of losing you, but I knew this was no such thing.  It appears that Cullen is quite taken by you.”  Niamh stopped in her tracks and stared at Solas with a look of disbelief. 

            “C-cullen? Dreams of me…like that,” she asked, less for Solas to answer and more to express how absurd that seemed.  Then she realized why Solas had been so troubled after her meeting with the Commander.  Her expression darkened, “Solas…dirthera ma. What did you see?” She approached him so that she was standing between his outstretched legs.

            Solas looked away, and down, “I would not disturb you with it,” he looked back up at her only to see her raise her eyebrows, obliging him to continue. “To put it bluntly, he was taking you on his desk.” Solas laughed in disgust, clenched his eyes shut and shook his head.  Niamh stood awkwardly, in complete shock from the whole conversation.  Part of her wished she had not asked.


	3. Ma Nuvenin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is "Solavellan Sexy-Time" a summary?

              “So that’s what’s been up with all the tea,” she exclaimed in epiphany, “AND why you got so defensive about my chess game.” Niamh was proud of herself for putting the pieces together.  Solas gave her a nod before gently grasping her wrists and swinging her arms in front of him.

              “And I must apologize for my behavior, vhenan.  Jealousy and insecurity are not feelings with which I am not well-acquainted.  Being forced to watch the woman I love lay with another, completely suitable partner, was…most unpleasant. I became worried that it was your dream, too.”

               Niamh had never heard the proud elf sound so unsure of himself. _Oh this won’t do_.  She smiled and reached out to touch his cheek affectionately. “Solas, the Commander is an attractive, intelligent, and perfectly suitable man who many women would flock to bed. I am not those women, and Cullen is not you,” she explained, taking note of the relief that washed over his face. Then, she said something that was as shocking to her as it she knew it would be to him. “Take me.”

              Solas reared back in bewilderment, not entirely sure if she was serious. “Here? Now? Are you certain?” He put his hands on her waist, partially to make sure he had her attention, partially just to pull her closer, though he did not have to.  Niamh inched closer, lured by overwhelming need to be closer to him.

             “Yes. Here. _Now,_ ” she insisted so urgently it almost sounded like a plea.

             “Ma nuvenin,” Solas said breathlessly, as he shot up and lunged forward, taking her into his arms, kissing her passionately first on the lips, then down the nape of her neck, humming softly into her skin.  The kissing became more forceful as eased her back up against the stony wall of the rotunda, pushing her more firmly into it once they were close enough that the firm shove would not hurt her. He was ravenous, but he was still very mindful of the woman in his arms, more fragile than she let on.

              She drew in a sharp, pleasured breath as her back made contact. The thin material of her casual tunic, her favorite worn teal one that she had brought with her from her home, offered little protection against the ice cold rock that supported her. She felt the prickly sensation as chill bumps rose on her skin.  She could not discern whether it was from the temperature or the excitement.  It seemed that everywhere Solas touched, her body responded with tingling.

              Niamh reached forward, sliding her cold hands under his tunic.  She giggled as he gasped with the light touch of her cold fingertips against his skin as she pulled the cloth up, until it snagged under his arms.  He shook his head playfully and removed it the rest of the way for her.  She eyed the sharp edges of his shoulders and his chest before leaning forward to pepper his collarbone with warm, wet kisses that she let travel up his neck. She tenderly nibbled his ear, and to her surprise, Solas let out a low, almost feral moan, as he worked to remove her top, now. She reveled in seeing him so unguarded and free and she taunted him further by tugging at the laces to his breeches, lightly running her hand over his arousal before ridding him of the remainder of his clothing.

             Solas found it hard to restrain himself at this point, making quick work of ridding her of her own clothing. He gently guided her down to the rug on the floor where he sat, and pulled her onto his lap marveling at her exposed beauty above him.  He began to kiss down her neck, as he grabbed her waist and began to shift their position so that she was lying beneath him.

            “Solas,” she whimpered as he continued to place kisses down the center of her chest, her stomach, and then he grazed her inner thigh with his tongue.  With every inch he came closer to tasting her, she became a little more undone.  All thoughts of duty washed from her mind.  What had they even been speaking about before?  She did not care. “Please.” Solas could not help but to oblige his lady, tracing her womanhood ever so softly with his lips and taunting her ever so slightly by flicking his tongue against the sensitive, swollen pearl.  He hummed in delight when he heard her breath catch in her throat.

             He took his time, spoiling her, lavishing her because she deserved this worship, she who had changed his whole world.  Niamh’s moans of pleasure became louder and more urgent as she reached the edge.  To Solas, no more beautiful sounds had ever been made.  He cherished the thought that those noises belonged to him alone.  Then, he felt her shudder, her legs clenching around him and, as she let out a cry.  He continued, and she tried to squirm away from the immense sensitivity.

             He looked up and smiled devilishly as he crawled up over her.  She felt his hardness graze her, reigniting the spent desire in her.  He lowered himself, pausing only to torture Niamh by asking, “Are you sure you want me?”   She nodded abruptly, desperately, unable to utter that she had never wanted anything so badly in her life. “As you wish, vhenan,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he eased himself into her and she gasped once again.

             She felt wonderful, her walls enveloping him so perfectly.  He’d forgotten the sensation and how completely consuming it was, but this was even more.  He felt tears burning in his eyes as he rocked his hips into her, first slowly, then more rapidly as he sensed her nearing another climax, and felt his own swiftly arising.  Finally, she came, shuddering twice as intensely as before, he felt her clench around him, and that sent him over the edge.  With a soft growl, he let himself go inside her, simultaneously wracked with sobs.  He let his weight fall on top of her. She wrapped her arms around him tightly embracing him. 

            “Solas, emma’lath, what is wrong,” she asked soothingly both concerned for him and in complete shock that he had this reaction. Her normally stoic elf was completely vulnerable, and she did not know what to do with that.

            “Loving,” he whispered, “I had forgotten how much it hurts.”


	4. Let Them Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Lavellan realize their entanglement was not as private as they would have hoped.

                The two laid intertwined, holding one another for quite some time.  Niamh was absolutely at a loss as to how to handle Solas’ pain.  She had never expected that he would be anything other than cool and collected as he was in all things.  _You have built so many walls, Solas._ She smiled endearingly at him as she stroked his back, still trying to figure him out.

                The two were drawn from their post-coital daze as something fell to the floor with a loud _PLOP._ Niamh and Solas both jerked their heads toward the direction of the sound. Niamh sat up and pulled herself out from beneath her lover, crawling over to the object on the floor. “Hmm.  It’s a book,” she said, as she picked it up and turned it so that she could read the text on the cover.  Solas sat still in a stupor, and looked at her curiously.

                “What kind of book? Where did it come from,” he asked.

                As Niamh examined the tome, she noticed that the hardbound, deep purple book possessed no external markings.  She flipped open the book, and found the page where the title was printed and began to read it aloud, slowly, “Hiding the Magister: The Imperial Guide to Pleasing Your Amatus, volume 1.” She blushed slightly, and she heard Solas let out a startled choking sound.  She began to thumb through the pages which were filled with explicit images of men and women, and men and men, _and_ women and women entangled in impossible positions.   Niamh noticed a page had been bent at the corner.  She turned to the page, which revealed a pose called “Soothing the Halla.” She immediately slammed the book shut. “ **Dorian.** ”

                She turned her head upward toward the balcony that overhung Solas’ room.  Solas himself, was already looking in that direction, scowling.  Her flamboyant Tevinter companion rested his elbows on the balcony, looking down at the couple, grinning deviously from ear to ear.  He shot out a giddy thumbs up. “Well done, my friends,” he shouted down at them, “Solas, I did not think you had it in you.  Tell me, was it all you ever _dreamed_?” He cackled.  Solas was not amused.

                “That is not even remotely funny, Dorian.  Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?” Solas grumbled loudly.  He could not hide his embarrassment.  Niamh too, had suddenly become very aware that she was nude and rushed to grab her tunic and slipped it over her head quickly, she tossed solas his pants as well, which he put on.

                “Come now, Solas – oh wait… you just did. HAH! – Anyway, _surely_ you did not think nobody would look off the balcony in the middle of the afternoon.”  Solas and Niamh, exchanged a knowing glance. Niamh had not even considered that.  _Who else might have seen? Heard? Creators!_

Dorian continued to speak, “I just thought I would give you two something to help out.  It looked like you were having some…trouble,” he taunted, “That book has 25 volumes if you’re interested.  It’s a lovely study.”  Niamh turned her gaze, fiery from embarrassment, to meet the mage.  He recoiled a bit, not expecting the glare.

                “Dorian Pavus, I am about three snide remarks away from incinerating your mustache. **_Do not tempt me._** ”  She clenched a fist and Solas smirked proudly behind her. 

               The mage raised up his hands in surrender and turned to walk back to his nook yelling behind him, “Fine, fine, but I cannot be responsible for what the others do.” With that comment, Niamh and Solas both blanched and looked at each other, mortified.

              “We’re never going to live this down.  We’ll be the talk of the castle. Ir abelas,” Niamh said despondently, a headache suddenly pounding in her temples.  To her surprise, Solas smiled and walked up to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her and locking his hands together on her stomach.  He rested his chin softly atop her now messy hair.

              “Let them talk,” Solas murmured, his voice muted by her hair, “Tel’Abelas! Feeling you was well worth the impending embarrassment.”  He rocked her gently, almost dance-like until she turned around to face him, looking deeply into his eyes, an impish expression in her features.

             “Still worried about the Commander, “she asked teasingly poking his sides.

             “Absolutely not,” he said, laughing more jovially than Niamh had ever known him and it was the best laugh she’d heard. A serious expression softened her face and she reached out and touched his cheek lovingly. _Please don’t stop._

              As expected, the two did face some relentless jibes and from their companions. Varric had sworn to write a book about the encounter and Cassandra forcefully insisted that he let her read it first.  Sera kept sneaking into Solas’ rotunda and the Inquisitor’s quarters and leaving lewd drawings of how she’d envisioned the tryst (Often she’d placed a speech bubble next to stick figure Solas, which said “ELVEN GLORY.”).  Vivienne ranted about how distasteful the fraternization while the Iron Bull insisted on offering to let them borrow “toys.” Blackwall would taunt Solas and Cole would come to his defense.  Leliana and Josephine were very skilled at pretending they did not gossip about it when nobody was around.  Then there was Cullen; he refused to look at either Nia or Solas for weeks.

              Still, Solas and Niamh both had no regrets, and they would continue their passionate encounters in Niamh’s more isolated quarters, even putting Dorian’s book to use a few times. They’d never tell him though.


End file.
